Women of Secrets (IrenexMary Affair AU)
by resolutedetective
Summary: (NC17) Mary, with her supposed new life and new identity, lives quite a content life as John's wife. Irene Adler is also equally content playing her games with Sherlock's heart-both women can't seem to quite find that satisfaction they both need. Finding each other due to a twist of fate, the pair of them embark on a thrilling affair with plenty of blackmail, envy, and pleasure.


_**A/N: Hi all! Mage here again. This fanfiction is a MaryxIrene AU where they have an affair, but with plenty of plot twists, dilemmas, and many more things to get your minds working overtime. Heh. Anyways, without further ado, please read on to Chapter One! I hope you enjoy, since I put a lot of effort into my writing. Please, if you can, leave a review, and if you like, favourite/follow the story! Updates will be every other day/weekly. Thanks.~ This is AU in some other ways, tweaked, but I do my best to keep the characters as in-character as possible.**_

* * *

_CHAPTER ONE: THE MEETING_

Mary Morstan-or rather, Mary Watson-could hardly claim in any way that she was somehow dissatisfied with her new life, under that very identity that technically didn't quite belong to her.

It had been five months since John had been placed in the misfortune of discovering that the woman he'd fallen so overwhelmingly in love with was actually not that very same individual at all-and yet, astonishingly, Dr. John Watson had embraced the grim nature of the revelation with open, forgiving, and understanding arms. That fateful day had been outstanding proof to the assassin that luck was on her side when it came to the intimacy and love within her relationship with the ex-soldier (who was still plagued by the monster that was his past).

Overall, there was virtually nothing that Mary could possibly think about that would trigger any grand unhappiness within the confines of their sweet, loving relationship. And still, Mary briefly had considered that such a thing could be a contributing factor as to why she'd felt so suffocatingly dull lately. Things were becoming more routine by the day, and the prospect that her life may not amount to much at all now that she'd settled down with John hurt the very core of her being. Despite this, it wasn't as if she was completely ungrateful for the warm affection he showed her on a daily basis-who could be?-and it certainly wasn't the case that in any way she was missing her previous life as A.G.R.A. Thinking over her past allowed the ghost of a shudder to run along the length of her spine; images would spring to mind, stay there for days, before she could hide it away within a metaphorical cupboard.

Mary quite liked the calm. She enjoyed the odd tranquillity that accompanied it. Even so, her past life was excitable, each waking day, and her new life seemed so absolutely petty in comparison. In a way, the woman was doing her utmost to dismiss her depressive, pessimistic new attitude as a consequence of the shock of her real identity having been discovered by her lover. Yes, this would pass. Eventually.

Yawning, Mary slowly sat up in their double bed, wiggling her toes beneath the cosy, thick blankets that kept her husband and herself warm on cold mornings such as these. It was mid November, the 15th to be exact, and a crisp Thursday morning. Heavy-lidded blue eyes glanced lazily at the twenty-four hour clock that donned the be-side table. 7.31AM. She'd been awake and absorbed within her own thoughts and emotions for approximately twenty-one minutes now-how ridiculous was that? She was losing potential sleep over her own woes and worries. Mary simply classed this as another indicator that she was feeling strangely anxious, or something along those lines.

Well. It didn't seem she could think of many things to occupy herself at this time in the morning, besides to make a hot cup of coffee and take it to the doorstep to watch as the area slowly came alive in the morning rush-hour. Mary quite enjoyed watching the sun rise, but upon looking at the window at the opposite side of the room, she could see clearly that it was still quite dark for this time-perhaps going to sit outside with a cup of coffee really wouldn't be the most beneficial idea after all.

Why not catch up on some sleep she'd lost, then? Scooting back down into the bed, the blonde rolled over onto her side to face her husband, eyes drinking in his features for a moment or two before slowly falling shut again; relaxing like this _definitely _had a positive effect.

Although, being comfortable for too long seemed like something that was temporarily too much to ask for; as soon as she began to drift off peacefully, John began to stir, groaning loudly as he yawned. A light sigh emulated from his wife, who opened her eyes once more.

"G'morning, sleepy," she commented lightly, a drowsiness still within the light tone of her voice.

"Mm, good morning, Mrs. Watson. Did I wake you up-?" came the jaded reply of the doctor.

"No, of course you didn't, don't be silly. I was only drifting off, anyway, I've been up since about... 7-ish?"

"That's not like you, I thought you die for lay-ins."

"Are you saying I'm lazy, John?"

"Not at all!" Light laughter followed the happy remarks, Mary able to notice how John was waking up. He naturally had relatively tired features, which provided a rather comedic appearance for him sometimes-especially so early in the mornings, when the bags under his eyes were heavy and his short greying hair seemed to stick out in tufts that pointed in several directions. "Oh, Sherlock sent me a text last night, by the way." Another huge yawn from the ex-soldier.

"Oh? What did he want, then?"

"Well, he's as elusive as ever." John shifted so that he remained closer to Mary, raising his elbow to press on the pillow and his head in his hand. "Wouldn't exactly give me details, but then again, he doesn't seem to do that fully if we talk in person. All he said was something along the lines of, 'Come by the flat at 12. It's important.' From that," said Watson, "all I can think is that he's got his hands on a case or something. Or maybe another conspiracy theory about Moriarty-I don't know."

"So I take it you're going to go see him then?" Mary asked, moving to sit up in the bed and look down at the somewhat small man. "I can come with you, if you'd like. I think he's taking to me slowly, y'know!"

"Of course you can. You're the one person close to me who seems to be able to combat his, erh, rude manners, sometimes."

"Let's not get carried away with that," the woman murmured. "I think '_sometimes_' is the operative word there, don't you agree?"

* * *

12.21PM.

Life could be far more complex than necessary when you find yourself working within the professional business of a dominatrix. Irene Adler could relate to such a thing more than any other woman who was invested in the business; with the determined mindset and independence of a strong woman, the infuriating factor was being written off by individuals such as Sherlock Holmes, who, as pretentious and cold as he portrayed himself to be, was bizarrely amusing to toy and play with as much as Irene pleased.

Being back within the hustle and bustle of the city of London, a city that never slept, brought memories flooding back into Irene's mind. Some she was fond of, some were entertaining, and yet others infuriated her to no end. She'd missed her home dearly, and was fortunate to have someone such as Kate to to care for it and ensure the cleanliness and pristine nature of the accommodation. It was definitely an impressive welcoming home.

Bored again.

Bored, bored, bored.

If there was one thing she really did hate, it truly was that she found herself feeling so disinterested even though she was in the heart of the city, the place of opportunity and excitement. Granted, she'd been away from this area for quite awhile after Sherlock had done his best to save her life-highlighting what she believed to be a definitive gesture of a confused affection of some sort for her. That was all it took to allow her mind to run away with the possibilities of raising the issue to him, and watch him squirm, even though he'd do no such thing. It was true that The Woman had a weakness for the obstinate type.~

Thinking over such encounters with him made her consider paying a visit. Would such a thing be beneficial? What would play with him more, providing a message as warning or turning up completely uninvited and furthermore, completely unexpected?

"Kate!" the refined voice called as the dominatrix walked with a sway of her hips as she made her way down the staircase to the entrance hall. "Kate!" she called out once again, scrolling through the contacts on her phone. A manicured, polished burgundy fingernail pressed slightly against that one person.

"Yes?" came the slightly breathless reply of the redhead as she emerged from one of the various large rooms. "What is it, Miss. Adler? I'm sorry, I was tending t-"

"It's alright, that doesn't matter," she quipped impatiently, a full red smile directed at the loyal woman. "I'm going out for a while-I don't know how long I'll be, I'm not quite sure yet. Since I've been back here I've began to neglect my priorities, you know... I'm going to get on top of that immediately." Her smile was on the verge of becoming an overly smug smirk. "I need to pay someone a brief visit."

"Is it a client-?"

"I wouldn't necessarily call him that."

"Holmes, then."

"Now, now, Kate. I'm sensing some distaste in your tone, and you know I dislike it when you talk of him so badly. He has his bad qualities, but he's fun. A good toy is better than no toy." Flashing her phone at Kate, Irene then made a move to leave the property, strolling the streets and calling a cab.

* * *

12.45PM.

Mary quite liked Mrs. Hudson. There wasn't any dislikeable thing about the frail old lady, and she always seemed to be so warmly welcoming of those she welcomed as tenants or in this case, friends of Sherlock. Of course, despite being so wonderfully charming for a woman of her age, Mrs. Hudson did have the slight tendency of talking continuously about topics that Mary simply couldn't quite get the grasp of and thus get involved in-nodding politely and asking general neutral questions during slight breaks of her speech served to satisfy the elder woman, which in turn made Mary feel just that little bit brighter about her day.

Upon arriving at the flat, Mary had noticed instantly that something had been plaguing Sherlock from whatever time it had been when he'd text John to come over to 221B Baker Street. She had plenty of knowledge thanks to general conversation with John that Holmes was the possessor of erratic behaviour and therefore unpredictable, even seemingly irrational actions sometimes-when she'd seen him pacing around the small area of the flat rapidly, his heavy eyes twinkling with a mixture of mirth and fear; it was almost as if you could practically see the cogs of his mind whirring as he analysed whatever it was that he'd fixated so heavily upon this time. His thick mass of dark curls looked far more unkempt than usual, and his entire face seemed exhausted-when was the last time he'd gotten a good nights worth of sleep? Clearly not at all recently.

Morstan had taken virtually no time in seating herself in the small chair near the desk that housed several stacks of papers that had messy scrawls across them, as if when Sherlock had been writing them he'd been in a rush. What was wrong with him today? Mary had tried her best to find out what that was, but Sherlock's mind was elsewhere. He and John had bickered slightly, yet after about twenty minutes, the sleuth had essentially dragged the ex-soldier with him after shouting something about Mycroft being his good old self. Mary never quite got involved with being totally involved within the drama that surrounded Holmes' shrouded family life, but before she'd made to follow, Mrs. Hudson had come up to talk to her.

It hadn't lasted long.

Mary glanced down to the golden watch stationed on her pale wrist, nodding at the time. Clutching her navy jacket close to her chest, placing her mobile in the pockets of her jeans, she'd began to make her way down the creaky stairs of the building before the door to 221B opened and light from the dreary day outside came through, a tall, stern figure before her.

Sherlock hadn't mentioned any visitors...

"I'm sorry, are you here for anyone-?" Mrs. Hudson came bustling out of her own little room downstairs, eyes widening at the immaculate woman who stood in the doorway. She wore a figure-hugging navy dress, that clung to her body in all the right places and accentuated her feminine figure. Her heels were a dark, finely polished black, and her brunette hair pulled back into a bun, the strict waves of her hair shining glossily within the artificial lighting of the ground floor. This woman was stunning, and yet the sly shine to her dark eyes only seemed to scream trouble.

"Is Sherlock here, or is he avoiding me? I've been texting him like crazy. And yet, it seems like he's ignoring me," said the other, eyes fixated on Mary as she spoke.

"He's just left. With John. Is there a particular message you need me to leave for him?" Mary asked, arms crossed just beneath her chest. There was something about the other that made her just slightly uneasy.

"He's not told you about me, then? My, oh my. He never would, of course. The poor boy would be afraid that he'd speak of me too highly." A snicker followed her words. "I, my darling, am Irene Adler. He, of course, refers to me by my professional name, The Woman. Should I know you, though? I know he's done his best to try and forget me, but with another woma-"

"Mary." Her voice was calm, stepping down onto the ground floor to be level with Irene, even though Adler's heels granted her extra height. "Mary _Watson_. Believe me, I've heard of you. I've heard plenty about you, thanks to John-only the basics, though."

Irene Adler's shaped eyebrows rose, and a new fire seemed to be alight in her dark eyes. "Well, this really was a good idea of me to stop by."


End file.
